


No Rest For The Wicked

by dirkharley



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirkharley/pseuds/dirkharley
Summary: Agent McCree returns, exhausted, from a mission gone long. Gabe just wants to make sure he gets some sleep.





	No Rest For The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoulCured](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulCured/gifts).



> for the mcreyes secret snowflake - the prompt given was "longing looks & lingering touches". i went a little off-model with it, but i hope you still enjoy the fic! c:
> 
> also - many thanks to my betas [Geromy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Geromy/) & [ScrubMercy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrubMercy/)!! ♥

Despite the hour, Gabe is still in his office when the transport lands, six of Blackwatch’s finest in tow. The three week mission ran a little long - two days past schedule, to be precise - so he fully expects that everyone on board will head straight to their quarters for some well-deserved rest. Even if he wouldn’t mind getting to see his agents (or one in particular - though he’d never admit it) return after such a long absence, there was no point being selfish for the sake of a few hours. That’s why he stays engrossed in his work, almost missing the three quick knocks on his office door, and nearly startling when the code is keyed in and it opens.

“Hope you don’t mind me barging in like this,” McCree says, exhaustion lacing his voice. “Saw the light was still on under the door.”

Speak of the devil. Gabe closes the folder in front of him, looks up, and nods in greeting.

“Not at all. Shouldn’t you be asleep, though?”

“Nah. Couldn’t even sleep on the trip back, still got too much adrenaline in me. Figured I may as well stop by and give you my report now.” McCree raises a hand to rub a smudge of nondescript grime from his cheek. “Could ask the same of you, though.”

Gabe shrugs and lowers his head, shuffling documents aside to unearth his tablet. “Had some work to catch up on. Guess it’s a pot and kettle scenario.”

A moment passes without a response, and then another. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe notices a slight sway in McCree’s stance, and he looks up again. His agent is still looking ahead at him, but his eyes are slightly glossed over, vision unfocused. All told, he looks like he’s about to fall over. Gabe suppresses the urge to frown.

“You sure you want to do this now, McCree? I guarantee I’ll still be here in the morning. And to be honest, I’d rather not have to lift your dead weight off of my office floor in five minutes’ time.”

McCree blinks once, twice. Shakes his head out. Then his mouth twists into a smile, bordering on sheepish.

“‘M sorry, you’re right. Some shut-eye sounds amazin’ right now. Just thought I should be responsible and get my duties over with first.”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “I’m always right. And you’re never responsible. Why break tradition now?”

He’s prepared for McCree to leave, then, but the slight hesitation in the other man’s movement doesn’t sit well with him. Gabe doesn’t bother filing any of the papers on his desk before he stands, tablet still in hand.

“I’m just about done with this, may as well call it a night. I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

McCree scoffs in response. “I ain’t drunk, boss, just a little tired. ‘M sure I can make it on my own just fine. Wouldn’t wanna inconvenience you.”

“Trust me, you aren’t. Besides, having my best agent break his neck falling down a flight of stairs while off duty would be a lot worse. The paperwork alone? A nightmare.”

Gabe allows himself to relax a little as McCree seems resigned to being escorted, and he opens the door, motioning for the other man to exit first. Not long after they start down the hallway, McCree looks over to him, a mischievous twinkle seeming to liven up his tired gaze.

“Best agent, huh?” He says, visibly puffed up from the compliment. Gabe can only hope he’s too sleep deprived to remember it in the morning. The last thing the man needs is another ego boost.

“Did I say that? You must have heard wrong.” They get to the end of the hall and Gabe calls for an elevator up to the barracks. Despite them being only two floors up, he meant it when he said he didn’t want to risk the stairs.

“Nah, I know what I heard. ‘M a spy, remember? Gotta have sharp ears for our kinda work.” McCree is leaning with one shoulder on the wall, arms crossed, grinning ear to ear. He’s usually casual, sure, but his guard seems suspiciously low, and Gabe can’t help but wonder -

“When’s the last time you slept, anyway?” The way it comes out is impatient, but McCree doesn’t seem to mind, instead responding as candidly as possible.

“Must be a coupl’a days ago now, I’d say. Maybe three? And yeah, boss, I know what you’re gonna say. But what with the mission running long, someone had to keep things goin’ smoothly, get us home quick.”

The elevator arrives, chiming just in time to cut off Gabe’s disappointed - and apparently expected - response. McCree springs off of his place on the wall and bee-lines through the doors, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Gabe follows close behind him.

“You know leading a mission doesn’t mean you have to kill yourself over it, right?” Gabe says anyway, just as the doors shut and the elevator starts to move. He keeps his eyes trained on McCree’s face, while the other man sways rhythmically from side to side, humming tunelessly. It’s a moment before he replies.

“Still alive and kicking, though, ain’t I?” He turns his head and his eyes meet Gabe’s, an almost intense glint to them. “What’s got you so worried, anyhow? S’not like you haven’t done the same in my shoes, plenty of times.”

Gabe responds with a frown, and readies himself to rattle off his usual explanation - about SEP bullshit, and all the enhanced endurance that comes with it - but the elevator comes to a halt at their destination, and McCree, in all his lack of grace, lurches forward. Gabe’s immediate reflex is to reach out and break his fall, and he does just that, winding up with a grown man unceremoniously clotheslined over his forearm. McCree, for his part, manages to catch himself by grabbing at Gabe’s arm, winding up with a handful of bicep. He doesn’t let go once he’s found his footing, but in the interest of not getting ahead of himself, Gabe attributes that to the exhaustion.

“Clearly,” he says, hoisting McCree back into an upright position, “I’m just more cut out for it than you are.”

The doors open and Gabe disentangles himself from McCree’s grip on him, reflexively moving his arm to rest on the other man’s back to usher him through into the hallway. McCree’s quarters are inconveniently located at the very opposite end of the floor from where they are, and his agent is seeming worse for wear by the second. The next time he stumbles, nearly slicing his own calf open with the stupid spur on his boot, Gabe makes an executive decision. He grabs a hold of McCree by the waist, tosses his left arm across his shoulders, and prepares to half-carry him down the hall like he just sustained a major injury. McCree seems content to slump down into the new position, even going so far as to lean his head onto Gabe’s shoulder. The closeness sends a shiver of something down Gabe’s spine, but he elects to ignore it.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” he says instead, knocking his own head against the other’s in an attempt to jostle him. “This isn’t my office. If you go dead weight on me, I’ll drop you here and now, I don’t care.”

A light chuckle escapes McCree’s lips, and it takes everything Gabe has in him not to react to the warm breath it ghosts across his neck.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.” McCree’s voice goes soft, then, so much so that Gabe barely hears what he mumbles next. “‘M just comfortable, that’s all.”

The silence they walk in for the next few minutes isn’t uncomfortable, per se, but it does give Gabe ample time to overthink every point of contact between the two of them, despite it having been his idea. McCree’s face nuzzles down into his shoulder at one point, and Gabe’s breath catches in a way he hopes the other man is too exhausted to notice. When they finally approach McCree’s quarters, his gut is a jumbled mess of emotions, and he all but whips his arm away from his agent’s waist.

“Here you are,” he says, ensuring his voice is as level as possible. “Home sweet home.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles into Gabe’s shoulder, and the vibration of it sends another surge of electricity down his spine. “Sure is. Thanks for the lift, boss.”

McCree’s face stays resting on Gabe’s shoulder, his breath still closer than it really needs to be. Keeping one arm slung across Gabe’s back, he leans them both forward slightly and keys in the code to his room. The door slides open, but he makes no move to extricate himself. A few seconds pass, but they feel like hours. Before Gabe can think to say anything, McCree speaks again.

“It’s a long trek back to your room. Y’wanna crash here?”

The question takes Gabe so much by surprise, he’s rendered speechless, and probably looks a lot like a deer caught in the headlights. Not that it matters - McCree’s eyes are closed, and his breathing is so shallow that if he hadn’t said anything just then, Gabe would have assumed the man had fallen asleep standing up. There’s still smudges of dirt and grime and whatever else on his face, but despite that, he looks decidedly peaceful like this. When he realizes how long he’s been staring, not to mention leaving him hanging, Gabe attempts to shake McCree’s arm off of him and take his leave. McCree responds by tightening his grip with a surprising amount of strength.

“I mean, y’dont gotta, of course. But I’m offerin’, anyway.”

Gabe finally breaks his silence, though he can’t bring himself to look at his agent when he speaks. “It’s not that far. Besides, you don’t have a whole lot of space in here. I can at least make sure you don’t just collapse onto the floor, though.”

McCree snorts. “But s’not your office. Thought you didn’t care.”

Without thinking, Gabe immediately fires back, “I care a little.”

He kicks himself for it, but McCree either doesn’t notice, or is preoccupied with what he has to say next, as he stumbles them forward into his quarters.

“Got plenty of space, though. A man gets sick of havin’ a bed to himself all the time.”

McCree stops walking, then, and with the abruptness of it, it’s Gabe’s turn to almost trip. His quarters really aren’t all that big - a single room with few furnishings, which meant that within a few strides, they’ve arrived at the edge of the bed. McCree’s grip on Gabe slackens. He takes a second to remove his already very askew hat, gingerly placing it on a side table, then his arm slides off of Gabe’s shoulders completely and he belly flops onto the centre of the bed.

He couldn’t say why, but Gabe just. Stands there for a moment. Having completed what he set out to do - more than that, really - he should be going, leaving McCree to sleep off his exhaustion. More importantly, he should be disregarding their entire exchange, and pretending none of it had happened. It would be in both of their best interests.

Just as Gabe shifts his weight, about to turn and leave the room, McCree pipes up one last time. His voice is heavy with exhaustion, but still clear enough to make out.

“C’mon, boss. It’s late. Y’should get some sleep.”

Without any further warning, McCree lifts an arm and grabs onto the hem of Gabe’s shirt, tugging it downward. It’s lacking in strength, but at this point Gabe’s resolve has melted into almost nothing, and he finds himself going along with the motion anyway. He lands next to McCree, nearly falling off the edge, but ends up held in a secure grip around the waist almost instantly. McCree’s face is close enough that he can feel his breath, again, and this time, he can’t suppress the shiver it causes. Even still, Gabe finds himself thinking he should say something. Extricate himself, leave room for this to turn around while it still can.

“Listen, McCree - ”

“S’just Jesse. If you’re in my room, I mean. No use bein’ formal.”

“What?”

“Y’heard me. Now stop lookin' this gift horse in the mouth and lemme sleep already.”

With that, McCree - no, Jesse - breathes out a loud sigh through his nose and leans his forehead against Gabe’s shoulder. He takes a moment to process everything, but ultimately decides - fuck it. He’s tired, they both are. He can leave thinking for the morning.

“Alright.”

Gabe shifts his head so he can fit Jesse’s head under his chin, and he feels Jesse mumble against him, just barely audible.

“S’comfy.”

And yeah, it is. Gabe lets himself relax into it, and before he knows it, he’s fast asleep.


End file.
